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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIM  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY    14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


O^ 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
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L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
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de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
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une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
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V 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  peliicul6e 


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D 
D 


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V 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
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□    Pages  detached/ 
Pages  detach^es 


D 
D 


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Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
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y 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


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D 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 


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Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


c 


D 


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I — I    Only  edition  available/ 


D 


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D 


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Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu*  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

i?y 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

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filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
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The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ♦-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
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right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film6s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  solon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commengant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  scion  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — »- signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  etre 
film^s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  filmd  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup^rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

AN 

UNREDEEMED 

CAPTIVE 


WITH  NUMHROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FROM     OLD-TLML     PRINTS. 
VVRITTHN  BY   CLIFTON    JOHNSON 


This  edition  of  an  instructive  work  now  rare,  in  this 
binding  done  at  the  Bindery  near  the  Common  in  Greenfield, 
Massarhusetts,  is  limited  to  seven  copies  which  are  bestowed 
by  the  donor  npon  the  following  persons,  who  are,  as  he 
thinks,  his  friends  : 

Wii^UAM  vStoddari)  WrrxiAMS,  Deerfield,  Massachusetts. 

Cousin  of  the  Unredeemed  Captive  ;  dweller  still  upon  the 
historic  soil  where  each  was  born  ;  of  lineage  illustrious,  in 
friendship  steadfast. 

Charles  Edgar  Clark,  Washington,  District  of  Columbia. 
Rear-Adiniral  in  the  United  States  Navy  ;  sailor  also  and 
navigator  in  all  seas  ;  doctor  of  laws  in  academic  fellowship 
with  William,  Emperor  of  Germany,  and  Theodore,  President 
of  the  United  States. 

Francis  Almon  Gaskill,  Worcester,  Massachusetts. 

Justice  of  the  Superior  Court ;  patron  of  art  in  type  and 
brush  ;  not  by  methods  of  Indian  cruelty  bu*^  with  kindness 
gracious,  maker  of  captives. 

Duncan  Campbell  Scott,  Ottawa,  Canada. 

Secretary  of  the  Department  of  Indian  Affairs  ;  author  of 
"In  the  Village  of  _\Mger,"  "Life  of  vSimcoe,"  "L,abor  and  the 
Angel."  ' 

John  Lane,  London,  England. 

Printer  and  publisher  ;  disccverer  and  encourager  of 
genius  in  poetry  and  art. 

Lucius  Tuttle,  Hoston,  Massachusetts. 

Master  of  transportation  ;  student  of  colonial  concerns  ; 
collector  of  Americana. 

Melvin  Ohio  Adams,  Boston,  Massachusetts. 

Careful  carrier  of  travelers  by  land  and  sea  ;  benefactor 
of  the  grammar  school,  academy  and  college  ;  friend  of  learning 
and  lover  of  his  fellowmen. 


No.    4^ 


4^ 


A-x^^ 


O 


cii, 


"^ 


i 

I 


1 

I 


.-a 


'*: 


4 


t  ^ 


:i4 
i 


■m 


% 


An  Indian  Seoul 


4 


AN 

UNREDEEMED 

CAPTIVE 


BEING  THE  STORY  OF  EUNICE 
WILLIAMS,  WHO.  AT  fil^  AGE 
OF  SEVEN  YEARS,  WAS  CARRIED 
AWAY  FROM  DEERF  ;.LD  BY  ti,e 
INDIANS  IN  THE  YEAR  170^,  AND 
WHO  LIVED  AMONG  THE  INDIANS 
IN  CANADA  AS  ONE  OF  THEM 
THE  REST  OF  HER  LIFE 


WRITTEN  BY 

CLIFTON  JOHNSON 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  THE  AUTHOR 

AND  MANY  OLD-TIME  ENGRAVINGS 

MDCCCXCVIl 


I 


M 
*« 


Copyiiglit  1897 
By  Clifton  Johnson 


.  H'^;^.,-    :'.t^^;*^m^^vt 


Printed  by 

Griffith,  Avtell  &  C!;uly  C<impany 

Holyokc,  Mass. 


An  Unredeemed  Captive 


Chapter  I 

of  the  Settlement  of  Deerfield — John  Eliot  and 
the  Indians — The  Purchase  of  the  Deerfield 
Grant  from  the  Savages  by  Major  Pynchon 
—  The  First  Minister  and  the  First  Tavern 

T^HEl  old  French  and  Indian  wars 
^  began  in  the  year  1689  ^"<^  con- 
tinued with  only  two  or  three  short 
intermissions  of  peace  until  1 763.  Dur- 
ing all  this  long  period  of  seventy- 
four  years  the  weakling  colonies  of 
New  England  were  constantly  harassed 
by  raiding  parties  of  the  enemy;  and 
it  is  probable  no  English  town  in  the 
colonies  suffered  more  in  the  struggle 
for  race  supremacy  from  the  depreda- 
tions of  the  F'rench  and  Indians  than 
Old  Deerfield.  It  was  one  of  the  New 
England  outposts  and  its  position  in  the 
Connecticut  valley  made  it  easy  of  access 
by  one  of  the  natural  routes  from  the 


An  Unredeemed 


north.  Once  it  was  all  but  wiped  out, 
and  the  inhabitants  of  the  region,  sinoly 
or  several  at  a  time,  continued  to  be  shot 
or  captured  by  the  northern  enemy  down 
to  1758.     But  this   does  not  include  all 


its  troubles  from  savage  foes,  for  its  first 
experience  of  war  dated  back  to  the 
time  of  the  Indian  rising  under  King 
Philip. 

Deerfield  was  an  offshoot  of  Dedham, 
one  of  the  old  towns  a  few  miles  out 
from  Boston.  This  connection  with  Ded- 
ham came  about  indirectly  through  John 


:| 


■^■^. 


imp 


■■■jj^ 


i 


Captive  3 

Eliot,  the  famous  apostle  to  the  Indians. 
The  conversion  of  the  natives  was  early 
an  object  of  solicitude  among  the  almost 
morbidly  religious  Puritans.  liut  the 
obstacles  were  such  that  the  work  was 
not  begun  in  earnest  till  1644.  It  was 
in  the  autumn  of  that  year  that  John 
Eliot,  the  scholarly  pastor  of  the  church 
at  Roxbury,  preached  his  first  sermon 
in  the  Indian  tongue  in  a  wigwam  on 
Nonantum  Hill.  From  this  time  to  the 
end  of  his  life  his  labors  for  the  Indians 
were  unflagging.  He  soon  saw  that  as 
long  as  the  Indians  remained  in  their 
savage  state,  living  in  scattered  groups 
and  frequently  moving  from  place  to 
place,  the  results  he  accomplished  would 
be  transient  and  uncertain,  and  he  says  he 
"  looked  for  some  spot  somewhat  remote 
from  the  English,  where  the  Word  might 
be  constantly  taught,  and  government 
constantly  exercised,  means  of  good  sub- 
sistence provided,"  etc. 

Such  a  site  he  found  at  Nalick.  The 
General  Court  approved  the  scheme  and 
the  town  of  Dedham  turned  over  2000 


An  Unredeemed 


acres  of  land  to  the  Indians.  The  bounds 
for  the  Indian  plantation  at  Natick  were 
duly  laid  out,  but.  just  as  in  all  the  his- 
tory of  the    whites'  dealings    with   the 
natives  when  they  own  land  the  whites 
covet,   the  years    following-  were   noisy 
with  complaints  of  -  affronts  offered  "  by 
the  savages  and  disputes  about  the  lines 
of  separation.   In  the  end,  to  compensate 
the  Dedhamites  for  their  supposed  losses 
and    sufferings    at    the   hands    of   their 
Indian    neighbors,    the    General    Court 
granted  them  8000  acres  of  land  which 
they  were  to  pick  out  wherever  they  chose 
in  the  yet  unsettled  parts  of  the  colony. 
I  he  selectmen,  to  whom   the  matter 
was  turned  over,  looked  about  and  pres- 
ently "heard  of  a  considerable  tract  of 
good  land  that  might  be  answerable  to 
the    town's    expectation,    about    ten    or 
twelve  miles  north  from  Hadley;  "  and 
they  advised  that  the  town  should  take 
possession  "with  all  convenient  si)eed 
before  any  other  granter  enter  upon  it 
and  prevent  us." 

In  1665  the  bounds  of  the  grant  had 


m^sf^i-T'  ■  ^  ri3"?"?^,;^v^7:)if  f.'-jT,-,^'."  -^xi>:9jfT/-'^ry~s 


Captive 


been  determined  and  the  next  thing  to 
be  done  was  to  go  through  the  farce  of 
purchasing  it  from  tlie  Indians.  All  the 
land  occupied  by  our  New  England  set- 
tlers was  bought  from  the  Indians,  but 
the  early  pioneers  never  let  sentiment 
interfere  with  business  —  they  bought  as 
cheaply  as  they  could,  independent  of 
the  real  worth  of  their  purchases.  For 
instance,  all  the  fertile  lowdands  from 
Suffield    to    Northfield    were    obtained 


from  the  natives  for  a  few  great  coats 
and  some  hundred  fathoms  of  wampum. 
The  Indians  were  as  children  in  the 
hands  of  the  Puritans  when  it  came  to 
business. 

Major   John   Pynchon  of  Springfield, 


•niiiiiiiPiiP 


An  Unredeemed 


in  his  double  capacity  of  magistrate  and 
trader,  liad  much  to  do  with  local  Indians 
and    effected    nearly    every    important 
purchase  from  them.     The  Sachems  of 
tlie  valley   kept   a    running  account   at 
Pynchon's  shop,  and  to  offset    this  ac- 
count    they    pledged     their    lands     in 
payment.     Here    are    the     items    of  a 
bill  against  Umpachala,  the  Norwottuck 
Sachem,  in  payment  of  which  the  Indian 
gave  P3-nchon   a  ,h^d   of  the   town   of 
Hadley  : 


2  coats,  shag  and  wampum 
Red  shag  cotton,  knife 
Wampum  and  2  coats 
a  kettle 
for  your  being  drunk 


5 

5 
I 


s. 

7 
10 

5 
10 


The  total  is  $64.     It  is  no  wonder  if 
the  Indians  on  rellection  wanted  to  scalp 
such  traders  and  their  associates.     Tech- 
nically there   was  no  injustice,  but  ad- 
vantage was  taken  of  the  fact  that  the 
red    man,  with    his    simple    wants    and 
characteristic  lack  of  foresight,  was   no 
match  for  the  ambition  and  shrewdness 
ol  the  civilized  white. 


Captive 


It  was  to  Major  Pynchon  that  the 
Declham  authorities  looked  to  get  them 
a  clear  title  to  their  tract  oi  land  from 
the  original  owners.  This  he  did  with 
his  usual  economy,  only  reserving  to 
the  natives  the  right  "  of  fishing  in  the 
waters  and  rivers,  and  free  liberty  to 
hunt  deer  and  other  wild  creatures,  and 
to  gather  walnuts,  chestnuts  and  other 
nuts  and  things  on  the  commons." 

The  Deerfield  grant  was  duly  divided 
among  the  Dedham  townspeople  and  in 
a  few  cases  the  new  owners  emigrated 
to  their  wilderness  property.  In  the 
main,  however,  they  held  the  land  as  a 
speculation,  just  as  a  person  might  now 
possess  himself  of  suburban  lots  to  be 
sold  when  he  saw  a  chance  to  make  a 
satisfactory  profit. 

Two  Hatfield  men  were  the  first  to 
put  up  their  rude  abodes  in  the  forests 
that  then  covered  the  site  of  the  new 
town.  This  was  in  the  early  summer  of 
1670.  Others  followed,  and  in  a  few 
years  the  settlement  had  grown  to  quite 
a  village,  the  houses  dotted  along  on  a 


8 


An  Unredeemed 


H:' 


north  and  south  Hnc  in  ahnost  exactly 
the  same  place  and  manner  as  in  the 
town  of  the  present. 

In  1673,  the  General  Court  Ljranted 
the  Deerfield  settlers  such  an  addition 
to  the  original  8000  acres  as  should 
make  them  a  township  seven  miles 
square,  provided  that  within  three  years 
they  should  settle  "  an  able  and  orthodox 
minister."  The  frontier  citizens  did  not 
await  the  time  limit;  for  that  same  year 
Mr.  Samuel  Mather  beofan  his  labors 
as  the  first  minister  of  Deerfield.      He 


'■rTT"'T''"  t^-'^' 


ipiiilliiP 


Captive 


was  then  only  twenty-two  years  old,  a 
recent  graduate  of  Harvard  College  and 
a  near  relative  of  those  two  New  England 
notables,  Increase  and  Cotton  Mather. 

With  the  church  thus  established,  the 
only  thing  that  remained  to  fully  round 
out  the   town   life    was  a  tavern.     This 
came  the   year  following,  when   Moses 
Crafts  "  was  licensed  to  keep  an  Ordinary 
and  to  sell  wines  and  strong  liquors  for 
one  year,  provided  he  kept  good   order 
in  his  house."     Drinking  was  far  more 
general  in  those  days  than  now  and  the 
alehouse  was  inevitable,  but  it  is  to  be 
noted  that  the   church  preceded  it.     In 
the  story  of  our  western  country  it  is  a 
different  matter.     There  the  saloon  has 
always  marched  in  the  vanguard  of  civi- 
lization. 

At  first  the  town  was  known  bv  its  In- 
dian  name  of  Pocumtuck,  but  the  abund- 
ance of  deer  in  its  woodlands  suggested, 
and  in  time  gave,  its  present  name  ac- 
ceptance. The  savages  still  hunted, 
trapped  and  fished  in  the  valley,  they 
bartered  at  the  tavern  or  made  small  ex- 


lO 


An  IJnredecmetl 


chanees  of  mats  and  baskets  for  civilized 
wares  at  the  villaoe  housedoors,  and  their 
wigwams  were  to  be  seen  along  the 
streamsides  as  of  old.  There  was  peace 
in  the  valley  and  the  new  settlers  were 
beginning  to  conquer  comfort  and  pros- 
perity. 


Captive 


II 


Chapter  II 

Of  King  Philip's  War— Deerfield  Destroyed  — 
The  Settlement  Again  Uegun  —  Kev.  lohn 
Williams  P.ecomes  the  Second  Minister  — 
Eunice  Williams  Is  Horn,  1696  — Her  Life 
as  a  Child 

NIOW  there  rose  the  cloud  of  war  —  a 
A  ^  war  of  bai-barism  resisting  the  en- 
croachments of  civiHzation.  It  started 
with  Philip,  sachem  of  theWampanoags, 
who  burned  ihit  villaqre  of  Swanzey  and 
three  other  villages  of  Plymouth  Colony 
and  murdered  many  of  the  inhabitants. 
By  this  time  the  Indians  had  acquired 
a  good  many  firearms  and  become  expert 
in  the  use  of  them,  so  that  they  were 
not  so  unequal  a  match  for  the  whites 
as  formerly.  The  Wampanoags  were 
soon  put  down,  but  Philip  escaped  to 
the  Nipmucks  of  Worcester  County,  and 
these  savages  carried  on  the  war  for  a 
year,  burning  and  slaughtering  all  the 
way  from   the  Connecticut  River,   then 


1 


m^ 


Captive 


13 


i 


the  western  frontier,  to  within  a  -lozcn 
miles  of  Boston.  In  tlic  end,  the  whites 
conquered  and  the  greater  number  of 
the  enemy  was  killed,  while  the  rest  were 
sold  as  slaves  in  the  West  Indies  and 
elsewhere. 

Philip  himself  was  ambushed  and  shot 
and  the  chieftain's  hands  were  shown  as 
a  spectacle  in  Boston,  while  his  ghastly 
head  was  set  up  on  a  pole  in  Plymouth, 
aiiording  the  occasion  for  a  public  thanks- 
giving. 

Scarcely  any  Indians  were  left  in  New 
England  except  the  friendly  IVIohegans. 
The  brunt  of  the  savage  attacks  was 
borne  by  the  colonies  of  Massachusetts 
and  Plymouth.  Of  ninety  towns,  twelve 
had  been  utterly  destroyed,  while  more 
than  forty  had  been  the  scene  of  hre  and 
massacre.  More  than  a  thousand  men 
had  been  slain,  and  a  great  many  women 
and  children. 

In  the  view  of  the  majority  of  our 
ancestors,  who  lived  in  that  day,  this 
devastation  had  a  religious  aspect,  and 
the    preachers    admonished  their   Hocks 


H 


An  Unredeemed 


that  these  sufferings  were  directly  due  to 
their  sins.     We  find  Parson  Stoddard  of 
Northampton  writing  to  Increase  Mather 
that  "  man)'  sins  are  so  grown  in  fashion 
that  it  is  a   question   whether  they  be 
sins,"  and  begs  him  to  call  the  governor's 
attention    to  "that   intolerable   pride   in 
clothes  and  hair,  and  the  toleration  of  so 
many  taverns;  and  suffering  home  dwel- 
lers to  be   tippling  therein."      Mis  con- 
clusion is   that  "it  would  be  a  dreadful 
tok'Mi  of  the  displeasur(?  of  Ciod  if  these 
aftlictions  pass  awa\-  without  much  sj)irit- 
ual  advantaoe." 

Deerfield  was  one  of  the  sufferers  in 
King  Philip's  war.     It  was  attacked  on 
September-  ist,  1675,  sevtM'al  houses  were 
burned  and  one  man   killed.     After  that 
the  inhabitants  huddled  together  in  two 
or    three    houses,   poorly    i^rotected    by 
palisades   and    defended    by    a    handful 
of  soldiers.      Many  of  them   piled  their 
household  goods  on  their  ox  carts  and 
wend(;d  their  way  through  the  forests  to 
the  larger  settlements  down   the  river. 
At  Hadley  there  was  a  strong  garrison 


,^^ 


!ving  I'hiliii— I'loiii  au  OM    I'liul 


k  ,?-r'r.'. .  ^^.rl^'TJ^-^jr-ri^'f  -JgjP    l''l.»^f^iT^;^'ry 


~  '""  ■  T^-^'(^, 


fwM 


wsKmmsm^miK^^fmik 


Captive 


15 


1 


which  presently  beo-an  to  feel  the  need 
of  provisions,  and  in  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember, Captain  Lathrop  with  eighty  men, 
besides  teamsters  and  carts,  w^ent  up  to 


Deeriield  to  secure  the  grain  which  the 
settlers  had  there  harvested  and  stacked. 
It  was  on  their  return  with  the  threshed 
grain  that  the  famous  massacre  of  IMoody 
Brook  occurred,  when  all  but  a  scant  half 
dozen  of  the  company  were  slaughtered 
by  the  savages. 

Soon  after  this  disaster,  the  garrison 
was  withdrawn  from  Deerfield  and  the 
Indians    burned    what    was    left    of   the 


▼  ^  :Tr  (■.»-■..■;"    ■  ■  ^vv  z'^^-^'^:-;  ••-^. 


.ww.-5i^-.v--™v!-v^,j,      J 


i6 


An  Unredeemed 


plantation.  Several  attempts  were  made 
to  rebuild  the  village  in  the  following 
years,  but  the  savages  were  continually 
lurking  about;  more  lives  were  lost,  the 
new  buildings  were  fired,  and  it  was  not 
till  1682  that  the  settlement  was  again 
made  permanent.  But  the  enterprise 
of  our  wilderness  pioneers  had  been  so 
paralyzed  by  the  reverses  and  frights  of 
the  past  that  the  growth  of  the  hamlet 
was  very  slow. 


It  was  six  years  before  they  again 
had  a  minister.  Their  choice  was  John 
Williams,  then  but  little  more  than 
twenty-one  years  of  age.  On  their  part 
his    parishioners    agreed    to    give    their 


^ 


i^ea 


I 


'!-^^'TTWf-rsS:-%"~ 


Captive 


17 


minister  a  home-lot  and  220  acres  of 
meadow  land.  Also,  they  would  build 
him  a  house  42  feet  long,  20  feet  wide, 
with  a  lean-to  at  the  rear;  would  fence 
his  home-lot,  and  within  two  years  build 
him  a  barn  and  break  up  his  ploughing 
land.  F'or  yearly  salary  he  was  to  have 
sixty  pounds.  This  was  largely  paid  in 
produce,  such  as  wheat,  peas,  Indian 
corn  and  pork. 

Soon  after  his  ordination  Mr.  Williams 
married  a  young  Northampton  woman, 
and  in  the  next  sixteen  years  there  were 
born  to  them  eleven  children.  Of  these, 
the  sixth  child  and  second  daughter  was 
born  September  17th,  1696,  and  was 
named  Eunice,  after  her  mother.  She 
it  is  who  is  the  subject  of  this  little 
book.  She  lived  the  simple  life  of  the 
other  village  children,  with  its  round  of 
work  and  play,  church-going  and  attend- 
ing school.  She  was  quick  in  her  studies 
and  became  a  good  reader,  and  under 
the  double  drill  at  school  and  home 
early  memorized  the  catechism.  She 
looked  with  interest  at  the  tavern  when 


■■.f  :?.■«'■  ■    ■  -^-'-v--i'  '"-'^Fr  ■'ipSt^' 


w^!^/.; 


i8 


An  Unredeemed 


she  passed  it,  lialf  fearfully,  for  she  re- 
flected the  home  sentiment  that  it  was  a 
place  with  a  decided  flavor  of  ungodli- 
ness. Once,  in  the  dusk  of  a  summer 
evening,  she  saw  two  teamsters  on  the 
porch,  using  loud,  rude  words,  and  one 
shook  his  fist  in  the  other's  face,  whereat 
her  opinion  of  the  tavern's  badness  was 
confirmed,  and  she  ran  home  in  great 
fright. 

On  the  other  hand,  she  liked  to  loiter 
at  the  door  of  Deacon  French's  black- 
smith shop.     That  was  a  place  of  peace 
and  sobriety,  and  it  was  a  pleasant  sight 
to  see  the  sparks  dance  about  and  hear 
the  metal  ring  as  the   Deacon  wielded 
his    hammer.      The    jxarsonage,    with    a 
number  of  other  humble   dwellings   in 
the    village   center,  was    inclosed    by  a 
palisade   that   included   within   it    about 
twenty  acres.     Outside  the  palisade,  the 
little  girl  was  not  allowed  to  go  unless 
accompanied  by  one  of  her  elders.     Hut 
this    fence    of    stout    posts    with    their 
pointed    tops    interested    her,    and    she 
knew  the  whole  line  of  it,  and  she  often 


''^■.     ^TS^S' 


"W-ms 


mmmmFmwmi^m 


I 


3 
O 


o 


V 


J 


'S'W'W*™llPP'W!"WPi!WI«l»Pi 


Captive 


19 


peeked  through  the  chinks  of  it  out  into 
the  surrounding  woods  and  clearings. 
Here  and  there  she  could  see  stockaded 
dwellings,  and  she  knew  that  some  of 
her  mates  in  the  village  school  lived  in 
them.  It  was  a  strange  world,  this 
woodland  country  outside  the  palisades. 
She  had  heard  many  stories  of  the 
Indians  and  of  the  wild  creatures  of  the 
forest,  and  she,  herself,  when  walking 
with  her  hand  in  her  father's,  on  the 
way  to  make  a  pastoral  call  at  a  house 
beyond  the  village  defences,  had  seen 
three  deer  feeding  in  a  stumpy  clearing. 
Near  the  northwest  angle  of  the  pali- 
saded part  of  the  village  stood  the  meet- 
ing-house, homely  and  square  with  a 
four-sided  roof  crowned  by  a  tiny  belfry. 
Close  by  the  church  was  a  heavily-built 
garrison  house  with  an  overhanging 
upper  story  and  loopholes  from  which 
guns  might  be  fired,  fiunice  knew  that 
in  case  the  Indians  attacked  them  and 
carried  the  palisade,  it  was  to  this  stout 
fort-house  the  people  would  retreat.  She 
knew  how  the  Indians  had  burned  the 


m 


lO 


An  Unredeemed 


town  years  before  and  the  stories  she 
heard  made  her  fearful  of  every  shadow 
when  she  stepped  outdoors  after  sun- 
down. Often  at  bedtime  she  felt  such 
fright  that  she  would  draw  the  clothes 
over  her  head  and  catch  her  breath  at 
every  sound. 


-  ■  ■  o.  Ml 


1   ijin  1  ,  J5VII  ii|.ifixin«^lipv|^lll!«fM 


Captive 


21 


Chapter  III 

Of  the  Renewal  of  War— Mr.  Williams' Appre- 
hension and  the  Warning  of  Col.  Schuyler  — 
The  Superstitions  of  the  Times  —  The  Winter 
March  of  the  Invaders  —  'J'he  Bell  of  St. 
Regis  —  The  .Attack  on  the  Town  — The  Old 
Indian  House 

A  S  has  been  said  France  and  England 
^"^  were  for  nearly  three-quarters  of  a 
century  almost  continually  at  war,  and 
there  was  a  feeling  of  intense  hostility 
between  their  colonies  over  the  seas, 
even  when  ther(^  was  no  armed  e.xpedi- 
tion  in  the  field.  Under  the  pretext  of 
protecting  the  eastern  Indians  from  Eng- 
lish encroachment  the  French  were  con- 
stantly inciting  them  to  marauding  the 
New  F^iigland  frontiers.  In  1703  plans 
were  laid  to  cut  off  the  outlyinir  Enolish 
settlements  from  one  end  of  New  Enpf- 
land  to  the  other,  but  these  plans  were 
not  fully  executed.  Many  eastern  set- 
tlements were  destroyed,  but  those  on  the 


22 


An  Unredeemed 


western  borders  remained  unmolested 
It  is  true  th(M-e  were  rumors  of  an  expe- 
dition against  Deerfield,  and  Rev.  ]\Ir. 
Williams  was  so  apprehensive  of  danger 
that  he  applied  to  iht-  ooxt^rnment  of 
the  province  to  detail  a  guard  for  the 
town,  on  which  twcMity  soldiers  were  sent 
for  a  garrison.  Besides,  the  minister 
sufficiently  rous(*d  his  people  so  that 
they  strengthenetl  th(."  fortifications,  but 
the  danger  was  not  as  clearly  realized  as 
it  should  have  be(Mi. 

What  was  known  of  the  intentions  of 
the  enem)'  came  from  Col.  John  Schuyler 
at  Albany,  who  was  in   the  habit  of  get- 
ting such  intelligence  from   the  Indians 
trading  in  that  place.     TIk;  Indians  who 
furnished  him  informati(-)n  were  Mohawks 
who  knew  of  Canadian  affairs  through  a 
band   of  their   relatives   settled   at   what 
was  then  called  Saint  Louis,  now  Caugh- 
nawaga,  nine;  miles  above  Montreal.  The 
latter  had  been  converted  by  the  fesuit,, 
and  persuad(xl  to  emigrate  and  setti;.-   m 
the  St.  Lawrence  where  the)-   naturally 
allied  themselves  with  the  French. 


I,     '«P!' 


Captive 


23 


D(;erficld,  at  that  time,  except  for  a 
tew  families  at  Northfield,  was  the  most 
northerly  srulement  on  the  Connecticut 
river.  It  was  perfectly  easy  for  the 
enemy  to  approach  it  unawares,  and 
there  was  in  the  air  a  feeling  that  some 
untoward  calamity  was  brewing.  It  was 
an  age   of  superstition.      Women  were 


hung  for  witches  in  Salem,  and  witch- 
craft was  believed  in  everywhere.  Did 
the  butter  or  soap  delay  their  coming, 
the  churn  and  the  kettle  were  bewitched. 
Did  the  chimney  refuse  to  draw,  wirches 


^megu^ 


24 


An  UnrcdccMiKJtl 


were  blow i no-  the  smoke  clown  the  llue. 
Did  the  loaded  cart  o'et  strck,  invisible 
hands  were  lioldinir  it.  Did  tht;  cow's 
milk  orow  scant,  the  imi)s  had  b(;en  suck- 
inor  her.  Did  the  sick  child  cry,  search 
was  matle  for  the  witches'  pins.  Ideas 
of  this  sort  and  the  talc^s  told  to  illus- 
trate tlu;m  so  worked  on  the  minds  of  the 
people  that  adults,  as  well  as  children, 
w^ere  ready  to  see  a  o-host  in  every  slip 
of  moonshines  and  trace  to  malign  origin 
every  sound  that  broke  the  stillness  of 
the  night  —  the  ratde  of  a  shutter,  the 
creak  of  a  door.  th(s  moan  of  the  winds 
or  the  cries  of  the  beasts  antl  birds. 

Vov  two  or  three  (;\enings  [previous  to 
February  29th,  1704,  a  new  topic  of  su- 
pernatural int(T('st  had  be('n  addetl  to  the 
usual  stock.  Ominous  sounds  had  been 
heard  in  the  night,  and,  says  Rev.  Solo- 
n)on  Stoddard,  "  the  pef)ple  of  Deerfieid 
were  strangelv  amazed  l>v  a  trampling 
noise  around  the  fort,  as  if  it  was  besieged 
by  Indians."  The  older  men  recalled  simi- 
lar ,)mens  before  the  outbreak  of  Philip's 
war,  when  from   the  cK'ar  sky  came  the 


■■^^'^^^^ 


"'^^W'w^-'.'^^ . 


^^?f?^T»T'7»CT?'Ti^i^?P(lf«fF«pr^ 


Captive 


25 


sound  of  horses'  hoofs,  the  roar  of  artil- 
lery, the  rattle  of  small  arms,  and  the 
beatinir  of  drums  to  the  charge.  These 
tales  of  fear  were  in  everybody's  mouth, 
and  even  the  thouohtful  were  possessed 
with  an  undefinable  dread. 

At  that  moment,  just  beyond  the 
northern  horizon,  their  foes  were  on  the 
southward  march  bent  on  overwhelmine 
the  settlement.  A  horde  of  b^-enchmen 
turned  lialf  Indian,  and  savacjes  armed 
with  civilized  powers  of  destruction  were 
hurrying  towards  our  d(^omed  frontier 
over  the  dreary  waste  of  snow  which 
stretched  away  for  hundreds  of  miles  to 
the  St.  Lawrence. 

This  expedition,  untlcr  the  command 
of  liertel  de  Rouville,  advanjetl  by  way 
of  Lake  Champlain,  which  they  left  near 
the  present  city  of  iUn'linoton  to  follow 
up  the  Winooski  river.  Lrom  the  head- 
waters of  this.^U-ca.m  th<'yi)assed  through 
a  gaj)  in  the  (iieen  ^L)untain!^  came 
down  the  valley  of  White  river,  then  for 
a  long  distance  traveled  southward  on 
the  frozen  Connecticut. 


26 


An  Unredeemed 


In  the  dark  shades  of  some  ravine,  a 
day's  march  nearer  our  border,  each  night 
their  camp  was  pitched  and  kettles  hung. 
Their  fires  Hghted  up  the  mossy  trunks 
and  overhanging  branches  of  the  giant 
hemlock  and  towering  pine,  throwing 
their  summits  into  a  deeper  gloom,  and 
building  u))  a  wall  of  pitchy  darkness, 
which  enclosed  the  camp  on  every  side. 
A  frugal  supper,  and  (piiet  soon  rtngned 
within  this  circle,  and  around  each  camp- 
hre  the  tired  forms  of  the  invaders  were 
stretched  on  beds  of  evercrreens,  to  be 
up  at  dawn,  and.  after  a  hasty  breakfast, 
onward  aj^ain. 

Dogs  with  sledges  aided  to  transport 
the  equii)age  of  the  camp,  and  the  march 
was  swift.  'I'he  tinal  day  came  and  dogs, 
sledges  and  such  baggage  as  was  not 
needed  were  left  behind,  while  the  army 
pushed  forward  over  the  last  miles  of 
the  journey  with  celerit)  and  ciution, 
and  reached  a  pine-clad  bluff  overlook- 
ing the  Deerfield  X'alley  on  the  night 
of  February  2Sth.  Here,  behind  a  low 
ridge,  the  packs   were   unstrapped,  the 


L 


rwi»"^^sft  ■  - . 


^^f-^w-h*^yff^ 


Captive 


27 


war  paint  put  on,  and  all  preparations 
made. 

One  tradition  has  it  that  the  object 
that  broug'lit  these  three  or  four  hundred 
French  and  Indians  all  this  winter  jour- 
ney from  their  northern  homes  was  the 
capture  o'i  the  bell  in  the  village  church. 
They  er(;  moved  by  ri_^hteous  indigna- 
tion, for  this  bell  had  been  taken  by  a 
colonial  privateer  from  a  French  vessel 
while  on  its  way  to  a  Catholic  church  in 
Canada.  It  is  said  further  that  the  in- 
vaders, after  securing  the  bell,  dragged 
it  away  on  sledges  to  Canada,  and  that 
there,  in  a  little  church  in  St.  Regis,  it 
calls  the  worshipers  to  service  to  this 
day.  Several  times  since  its  capture,  so 
the  story  goes,  efforts  have  been  made 
by  Deerfield  people  to  have  the  bell  re- 
in ried,  and  negotiating  committees  have 
'inde  the  pilgrimage  to  St.  Regis  with 
th's  end  in  vi(nv.  But  the  French  will 
noL  part  with  the  bell,  and  if  it  ever 
comes  back  it  will  come  as  it  went  —  the 
spoils  of  war. 

The  enemy  lay  in  concealment  on  the 


I 

L 


-. 


28 


An  Unredeemed 


bleak  rid^^tt  two  miles  north  of  the  town 
till  the  darkest  hour  c^f  the  night  came 
— that  preceding-  the  fu'st  grayness  of 
morning.  Then  they  crept  in  on  the 
sleeping  village.  It  was  midwinter  and 
the  slight  defence  of  palisades  was  in 
many  {places  drifted  over  with  snow. 
More  than  that,  a  stiff  crust  ::•■'  ormed 
on  th(!  snow  sufhci(;nt  to  bear  i  ^veio-ht 
ol  a  man.  and  the  enemx'  left  their  snow- 
shoes  behind  at  tin;  borders  of  the 
meadow  that  intervened  between  their 
hiding  |)lace  and  th(;  village.  The  town 
sentinels  pro\ed  unfaithful.  'I'hey  had 
retired  shortl>'  before,  and  there  was  no 
alarm  given  at  the  enetny's  approach. 
1  he  savage  foe  came  noiselessly  over 
the  palisades  at  the  northwest  corner, 
where  th(i  wintcM-  winds  had  lifted  the 
highest  drifts,  and  distributed  themselves 
among  the  peaceful  homes.  Then  came 
the  dr(;adful  warwhoop,  the  blows  of  axes 
on  resisting  doors,  the  leaping  of  flames 
and  the  repo.t  of  muskets.  Only  two 
houses  —  ()n(.>  within  the  palisades  and 
another  outside  —  made  a  succ(.'ssful  re- 


1 


'■■.^  wy,  A!'!^''-' J',.*''.JJ3¥*  y,  W^S!!i»i*t**".  tpv  I 


Captive 


29 


sistance,  and  except  for  the  occupants 
of  these  and  a  few  who  escaped  to  the 
woods,  the  rest  of  the  inhabitants  were 
either  killed  or  captured.  There  was  no 
time  to  lly  to  the  garrison  house,  in 
whicli   lived   Captain  John    Sheldon,  for 


it  was  surrounded  by  the  savages  in  the 
first  onslaught.  Its  door  was  heavily 
bolted  and  the  savages,  fniding  they 
could  not  push  it  in  by  main  force, 
hacked  a  hole  with  their  tomahawks, 
then  thrust  a  musket  through  the  aper- 
ture and  fired  and  killed  the  captain's 
wife.  The  captain's  son  leaped  from  a 
chamber  window,   gained   the  shelter  of 


30 


An  Unredeemed 


the  woods  and  escaped  to  Hatfield. 
Soon  the  g-arrison  house  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  foe,  and  as  it  was  one  of 
the  larg^est  in  the  place,  they  usetl  it  as 
a  depot  for  the  prisoners  they  were  fast 
collectino-. 

The  house  that  made  the  stoutest  fight 
was  one  about  fifty  yards  distant  from 
Sh(*l'lon"s,  where  w^ere  seven  armed  men 
and  several  women.  While  the  men 
fired  on  the  savages  the  women  loaded 
their  guns  or  cast  bullets  'or  Tulure  use, 
and  after  various  attempts  to  take;  the 
house  by  stratagiMu  or  burn  it,  the  en- 
emy gave  their  attention  to  keeping  out 
ol  range  of  the  defenders"  shot. 

At  the  end  of  the  fight  the  only  two 
houses  within  the  palisades  that  were  not 
smoking  ruins  \v(M-e  the  one  so  bravely 
defended  and  the  garrison  house.  The 
latter  had  been  pillaged,  and  when  the 
enemy  began  their  retreat  they  set  it  on 
fire,  but  it  was  saved  by  the  efforts  of 
the  few  linglish  who  had  escaped  death 
and  capture;  and  were  still  in  the  villaire. 
This   building,  as  time  went  on  and  the 


^m^ 


I'lic    1  >oui  of  the   <  M(l    lutliaii    lluiise 


iMi 


Captive 


31 


events  of  this  February  night  receded 
into  the  past,  came  to  be  known  as 
"The  Old  Indian  House."  It  stood  in 
its  wonted  place  till  1848,  when  in  its 
mossy  and  loose-clapboarded  old  age  it 
w^as  torn  down.  Even  then  its  sills  and 
other  timbers  were  as  sound  as  when 
the  house  was  first  erected.  The  old  door, 
filled  with  nails  and  gashed  by  Indian 
tomahawks,  has  luckily  been  preserved, 
a  most  interesting-  relic,  with  a  few  other 
fragments  of  the  house,  in  the  Deer- 
field  Museum. 


An  Un redcx^med 


Chapter  I\ 

Of  the  Capture  of  the  Minister's  House  —  The 
Enemy's  Retreat  —  The  Death  of  Mrs.  Will- 
iams—  Eunice  is  Treated  Kindly  l>y  Her 
Indian  C'aiitor 

/~\NE  of  the  houses  first  to  be  carried 
^^  ill  the  assauk  was  that  of  the  R(;v. 
John  W'iUiams.  For  what  we  know  of 
the  details  of  th(^  affray  and  of  the  (experi- 
ences of  himself  and  family  in  their 
captivity,  we  are  indebted  to  his  own 
qtiaint  relation  of  the  facts  in  his  "The 
Redeemed  Captive."  'I'iiis  old-time  book 
was  pul)lished  soon  after  the  reverend 
author's  return  from  Canada,  and  so 
o-reat  was  the  interest  in  his  narrative  that 
six  successive  editions  were  called  for. 

He  tells  how  he  was  awakened  from 
his  sleej)  by  the  violent  endeavors  of  the 
enemy  to  break  open  doors  and  windows 
with  axes  and  hatchets.  No  sooner  was 
he  out  of  bed  than  he  saw  that  the  foe 
hatl  alreadv  effected  an  (Mitrance,  and  he 


Captive 


33 


called  to  awaken  the  rest  of  the  house- 
hold and  reached  up  to  the  bed-tester 
for  his  pistol.  InuTK.'diately  the  enemy 
broke  into  the  room,  a  dozen  or  twenty 
ot  them  "with  painted  faces  and  hideous 
acclamations."  d  he  minister  cocked  his 
pistol  and  [)ut  it  to  the  breast  of  the 
foremost  Indian,  but  the  wea[)on  missed 
fire  aiid  he  was  seized,  disarmed  and 
bound.  Then  the  savat^es  "  insulted  over 
him  awhile,  holding  up  hatchets  over  his 
head  and  threatenino-  to  burn  all  he  had." 
His  two  youngest  children  and  his  negro 
woman  they  killed  and  the  others  ot  the 
family  they  huddled  into  the  bedroom 
and  held  as  prisoners. 

When  the  sun  was  an  hour  high  the 
pillage  and  destruction  were  complete, 
thirty-eight  of  the  b'nglish  had  been 
kill(?d  and  119  made  prisoners.  Now 
the  invaders  [)rei)ared  to  retreat.  By 
right  of  capture  the  minister  was  the 
property  of  the  three  Indians  who  had 
seized  and  bound  him,  but  one  of  these 
had  since  been  killed.  The  other  tv^o 
now  took  him   in  charoe   and   fell   into 


-i! 


34 


An  Unredeemed 


J«S*t* 


the  line  of  march.  Little  Eunice  was 
the  property  of  another  savage,  and  no 
two  of  the  family  had  for  a  master  the 
same  person.  They  were  all  separated. 
As  they  left  their  home  they  saw  that 
nearly  all  th('ir  neij^hbors' buil'.lings  were 
in  Hames  and  the  torch  was  at  once  ap- 
plied to  their  own  iioiise  and  barn.  It 
was  a  dreadful  experience  for  all  and 
for  none  more  so  than  for  the  seven- 
year-old  luuiice  Williams,  dragoed  weep- 
ing along  by  her  Indian  captor. 

As  s(K-)n  as  th(^y  saw  the  enemy  in  re- 
treat the  English  who  had  escaped,  with 
such  others  as  had  meanwhile  come  from 
Hatfield,  started  in  pursuit.  A  sharp 
skirmish  ensued,  in  which  the  assailants 
lost  nine  men  and  were  in  imminent 
danger  of  being  all  captured.  During 
the  fight  there  was  one  crisis,  when  the 
Erench  commander  was  so  hard  pushed 
that  he  sent  orders  to  have  all  the  cap- 
tives tomahawked,  but  the  Indian  mes- 
senger was  fortunately  killed  before  he 
delivered  his  orders,  and  the  retreat  of 
the  English  so  soon  followed,  that  the 
order  was  not  repeated. 


Captive 


3d 


Now  the  three  hundred  mile  march  to 
Canada  bci:^an  in  earnest.  They  crossed 
the  meadow  and  the  river  nortli  of  the 
town,  and  then,  ac  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain, the  Indians  took  away  their  prison- 
ers' shoes  and  e^ve  thcuii  moccasins  to 
enable  them  to  travel  more  swiftly. 

They  made  little  progress  that  day, 
and  nicrht  overtook  them  in  Greenfield 
meadows,  where  they  dug  awa}-  the  snow 
and  made  some  rude  wigwams  o(  brush 
and  cut  spruce  branches  for  beds.  To 
prevent  escapes,  Mr.  WilliaMis  and  the 
other  men  prisoners  were  bound,  and 
this  continued  the  ]:)ractice  every  night 
of  the  journey,  During  the  evening 
some  of  the  Indians  goi  drunk  on  the 
liquors  they  had  brought  away  from 
Deerfield  and  in  their  orgies  they  at- 
tacked Mr.  Williams'  negro  man  and 
killed  him. 

Early  the  next  day,  when  the  march 
was  resumed,  they  found  that  (ireen 
river,  near  their  camping  place,  barred 
their  way  with  open  water.  The  stream 
was  swift  and  the  water  above  knee  deep. 


36 


An  Unredeemed 


but  the  order  was  given  to  wade  it.  Mrs. 
Williams,  wliv)  was  weak  from  a  r<H:ent 
sickness,  stumbled  in  the  midst  of  tlie 
stream  and  was  pluno-(,'d  entirely  under 
water.  After  that,  the  shock  and  the 
chill  mad(;  it  impossil)le  for  her  to  la^ep 
up  with  the  march,  and  her  Indian  ca^)- 
tor  lifted  his  hatcdiet  and  with  one  blow 
relieved  himself  of  her. 

A  little  later  her  body   was  found    by 
iriends  who  followed    ihat  far  [he  line  of 


X'^ti^X'^^^'^^'- 


the  enemy's  retreat  and  they  carried 
thi?  body  back  to  Deerfudd  and  there 
buried    it.      The   stone  that  marks    her 


Captive 


2>7 


restinor-place  can  be  seen  to-tlay  in 
the  olil  biirying-crround.  If  y(^u  ha\'e 
patience  you  can  decipher  the  mossy 
inscription  which  reads: 

J/ere    lyrth   iiic   hodv   of 

MRS.  EUy/CR    n//./JAMS, 

the  7','rtuous   (j,-  (/esirablc   ccnwit  of  the  Rro'r.i. 

.Ur.  Jolt II    Willhims,    i^-'    iiaii\:^iitrr    to    \e 

Rev" id.   Afr.   Elcazer  d-  Mrs.    Estlier 

Mather    '[f   Northiunpton. 

She  7(',fs  horn  .-///.r/.   _,^  ^^6^,  anU  Jell  hy  ra^^^  „f 

ye  /iarh(jroii.\  E'leiiiy  Marrh  /,  tycj.. 

P/V7'.  j/.j,S'.      Iter  rhUJreii   rise   nf  and  eali  her 

Jilesseil. 

I'his  incident  <^{  Mrs.  Williams'  death 
was  tyj:>ical  of  the  priscnc.'rs'  treatment. 

It  was  th(;  same  all  throusjli  the  march 
— any  who  became  burdensome,  sick 
women,  wounded  men,  or  infants  in 
arms,  met  a  (jdick  death  and  were  left 
to  tlu;  b'uiai  of  th(!  siftino-  winter  snows, 
in  the  case  of  the  children  able  to  walk 
some  icMulerness  was  shown.  The  Mo- 
hawk who  was  Eunice's  master  cairied 
her  dryshod  across  th(^  coKl  waters  of 
Green  river,  though  when  he  picked  her 


.8 


An  Unredeemed 


up  she  struggled  with   Tear  and  kicked 
him  fiercely. 

Many  times  afterward  when  the  little 
girl  1-""came  too  tired  to  keep  up  with 
the  :  ,st  in  the  tramp  through  the  drifts, 
the  Indian  carried  heron  his  back.  She 
saw  other  children  carried  in  like  man- 
ner by  their  captors,  hut,  it  is  quite  likely, 
they  were  moved  less  by  sympathy  than 
by  ho|)e  of  gain.  l'\)r  the  children  were 
theirs,  and  when  they  reachetl  Canada 
they  could  either  dispose  of  them  or 
retain  them  for  llunr  own  service. 

On  the  fourth  da)'  the  army  reached 
the  Connecticut  river  in  the  vicinity  of 
Hrattlcboro,  and  thence  northward  to 
White  river  they  traveled  on  the  ice. 
At  the  mouth  of  White  ri\'(;r  the  force 
was  divided  and  made  its  way  to  Canada 
by  several  dilhM'ent  routes.  They  had 
largely  to  secure  their  provisions  on  the 
march  and  there  w^ere  times  when  they 
suffered  severely  from  hunger. 


Captive  39 


Chapter  V 

Of  Eunice  Among  the  Indians  in  Canada  —  The 
Jesuits  and  the  Prisoners — Mr.  WiUiams  Is 
Allowed  to  Visit  His  Daughter  —  Attempts 
to  Redeem  Eunice 

P  UNICE  was  taken  by  her  captor  to  his 
*— '  home  at  Caughnawaga,  the  Indian 
settlement,  nine  miles  above  Montreal. 
Her  father  at  length  reached  the  latter 
place,  and  as  soon  as  he  learned  where 
Eunice  was  held,  he  begged  permission 
to  see  her.  I'his  was  given  reluctantly, 
and  only  at  the  express  command  of  the 
governor,  in  whom  the  English  found  a 
considerate  foe,  if  he  was  not  a  positive 
friend.  The  dominant  influence  in  con- 
trol of  the  child  was  that  of  the  Indians 
and  the  Jesuit  priests  by  whom  this 
particular  band  of  Indians  had  been 
converted.  No  doubt  her  Indian  master 
made  the  white  child  useful,  and  it  may 
be  he  took  a  fancy  to  her  that  made  him 
reluctant   to   part   with   her  for  ransom 


40 


An  Unredeemed 


money.  But  there  is  no  (question  as  to 
the  position  of  the  Jesuits,  They  showed 
the  greatest  eagerness  for  proselyting; 
and  kidnaping,  and  threats,  and  torture 
were  naught  if  they  could  by  those 
means  save  souls.  Their  power  was 
always  used  to  retain  the  children  of  the 
English,  to  make  them  forget  their  ear- 
lier impressions  and  homes,  and  to  adopt 
the  true  religion. 

The  priests  told  Mr.  Williams  that  the 
Mohawks  would  as  soon  part  with  their 
*^arts  as  his  child.  The  governor  had  no 
power  to  compel  the  Indians  to  surrender 
the  child,  as  they  were  allies  rather  than 
subjects,  and  the  priestly  faction  was  too 
powerful  for  him  to  directly  oppose. 

The  father's  interview  with  his  daugh- 
ter lasted  an  hour.  The  little  girl  did 
not  like  her  Indian  life  and  cried  to  be 
taken  away.  Among  other  things  she 
said  that  the  savages  did  not  keep  the 
Sabbath,  and  she  thought,  a  few  days 
before,  they  "had  been  mocking  the 
devil,"  and  these  things  troubled  her 
New  England  conscience  greatly. 


Captive 


41 


Her  father  told  her  to  pray  every  day 
and  not  to  forget  her  catechism  or  the 
Scriptures  she  had  learned  by  heart.  In 
reply  the  child  said  that  "  a  tall,  lean 
man  in  a  black  gown  comes  and  makes 
me  say  some  prayers  in  Latin,  but,"  she 
added,  "  I  don't  understand  one  word  of 
them;   I  hope  it  v;on't  do  me  any  harm." 

The  interview  came  to  an  end  and 
the  minister  went  sadly  back  to  Mont- 
real. The  governor  made  every  eftbrt 
to  secure  the  child's  release,  but  without 
success.  He  understood  he  had  the 
promise  of  her  at  one  time  it  he  would 
procure  an  Indian  girl  in  her  stead,  and 
he  sent  a  long  distance  up  the  river  fo"" 
one.  But  when  he  offered  her  she  was 
refused.  He  agreed  to  pay  them  a  large 
sum  of  money,  but  they  said,  "  No." 
Finally  his  lady  went  over  and  begged 
the  little  girl  from  the  tribe,  but  all  in 
vain.  She  staid  on,  she  was  dressed  as 
an  Indian,  she  lived  as  one,  and  at  length 
she  had  well-nigh  forgotten  how  to  speak 
Knglish.  Three  years  passed  and  it  was 
reported  that  she  herself  was  unwilling 
to  leave  the  life  she  had  adopted. 


it 


42 


An  Unredeemed 


Mr.  Williams  and  the  others  of  his 
family  had  all  been  redeemed  by  the 
end  of  I  706.  Their  period  of  captivity 
had  not  been  all  hardship.  The  French, 
in  general,  showed  them  only  kindness. 
Real  pity  seemed  to  be  felt  for  the  pris- 
oners, and  some  declared  openly  that 
they  decried  the  official  methods  of  con- 
quest. They  said  that  to  send  the 
Indians,  with  their  barbaric  notions  of 
warfare,  against  the  English  was  no 
better  than  massacre. 

With  the  official  class  the  captives  did 
not  fare  so  well.  They  found  most  of 
them  given  to  intrigue  and  double  deal- 
ing. As  for  the  Indians,  they  were  crafty 
and  uncertain,  and  the  priests  were  apt 
to  be  so  zealous  for  the  religion  of  Rome, 
and  so  bent  on  making  all  the  world  ac- 
cept their  faith,  whether  it  would  or  not, 
that  the  springs  of  sympathy  were  dried 
up  within  them.  Yet,  if  the  methods  of 
the  latter  were  sometimes  unfeeling  and 
cruel,  those  of  the  captives  in  dealing 
with  the  priests  were  not  above  re- 
proach.    Mr.  Williams  himself  was  very 


Captive  4-5 


bumptious  on  the  subject  of  religion, 
and  was  often  needlessly  irritating  in 
his  talk  with  the  Jesuits.  He  told  them 
openly  that  they  were  humbugs  and 
their  religion  a  lie,  and  that  his  own 
New  England  doctrine  was  the  only  true 
stripe.  Nothing  would  persuade  him  to 
enter  one  of  their  churches  —  he  would 
as  soon  go  into  a  workshop  of  Satan's. 
So  each  party  saw  things  their  own  way, 
and  each,  in  the  view  of  the  other,  was 
going  in  obstinacy  and  blindness  straight 
down  the  road  that  led  to  Sheol. 

Mr.  Williams,  in  the  final  pages  of  his 
book,  bespeaks  the  prayers  of  all  New 
England  for  the  ten-year-old  daughter 
he  left  behind  in  Canada.  No  doubt 
this  request  met  with  wide  response.  In 
his  own  prayers  she  was  remembered  as 
long  as  he  lived,  antl  he  never  ceased  to 
petition,  not  only  for  her  release,  but  for 
the  soul  jeopardized  by  the  influence  of 
the  priests.  It  is  known  also  that  she 
was  constantly  prayed  for  by  her  brother. 
Rev.  Stephen  Williams  of  Longmeadow, 
who  was  concerned  both  for  her  "  Spirit- 


Wr^iBSIIm 


44 


An  Unredeemed 


iial  and  Eternal  Good,"  and  that  "  God 
would  touch  her  heart  and  incline  her 
to  turn  to  her  friends." 

A  few  days  after  Mr.  Williams  reached 
Boston  from  Quebec,  he  was  visited  by 


Captive 


45 


a  delegation  from  Deerfield,  and  in  be- 
half of  the  town  was  entreated  to  return 
to  his  former  parish.  After  due  deliber- 
ation the  call  was  accepted.  A  new 
house  was  built  for  him  and  in  a  short 
time  he  married  again  and  the  troubled 
days  of  capture  and  captivity  seemed 
largely  to  be  laid  away  in  the  silence  of 
the  past,  out  of  sight  and  out  of  mind. 
But  he  did  not  forget  the  daughter  in 
Canada. 

On  one  occasion,  the  report  was 
brought  to  Deerfield  that  Eunice  Will- 
iam's Indian  master  had  promised  to 
bring  her  home  within  two  months,  but 
the  two  months  went  by  and  the  cap- 
tive did  not  return. 

Several  years  passed  and  in  171 1  an 
Indian  squaw  came  timidly  into  the 
heart  of  Boston  and  sought  the  old 
Province  House,  She  wished  to  see  the 
governor,  and  she  asked  of  him  her  chil- 
dren, captured  recently  and  now  held  in 
Boston,  rhe  governor  thinks  and  then  he 
speaks.  He  says  he  will  exchange  the 
children  of  the  woman  for  Eunice  Will- 


-■■.■■■f'.-  itf-Vfttgmse 


f^   J 


46 


An  Unredeemed 


iams,  now  held  captive  by  the  praying 
Mohawks  of  Caughnawaga. 

Forth  went  the  squaw  and  for  many 
long  summer  days  she  pushed  on 
through  the  wilderness  toward  Mont- 
real. But  when  she  reached  her  jour- 
ney's end  there  was  the  same  old  mys- 
tery of  delay  and  objection.  At  last  the 
offer  was  made  by  the  French  of  four 
other  English  prisoners  to  be  given  in- 
stead of  Eunice,  and  the  offer  was  ac- 
cepted and  the  Boston  pappooses  went 
to  the  mother,  and  the  minister's  daugh- 
ter was  still  among  the  Indians. 

In  1 713,  John  Schuyler  made  the  jour- 
ney to  Canada  in  the  interest  of  the 
prisoners  held  there  and  he  took  pains 
to  see  Eunice  at  Caughnawag„  with  the 
hope  to  bring  her  away  with  him.  But 
he  found  that  she  had  not  only  accepted 
the  faith  of  the  Jesuits  and  been  re- 
baptised  Margaret,  but  that  she  was  now 
married  to  a  young  Indian.  She,  with 
her  husband,  was  brought  in  to  see 
Schuyler  at  the  house  of  one  of  the 
priests.     He  reports  her  to  have  been 


T 


Captive 


47 


looking  "  very  poor  in  body  and  bashful 
in  the  face." 

He  desired  her  to  sit  down,  which 
she  did.  First  he  spoke  to  her  in  Eng-- 
Hsh,  but  she  did  not  respond.  He 
thought  she  could  not  understand  and 
then  employed  his  Indian  "Languister" 


to  convey  what  he  would  say  to  her. 
Nevertheless,  she  would  speak  not  one 
word.  Finally  Schuyler  asked  the  priest 
to  talk  with  her,  and  beg  of  her,  if  she 
would  not  return  home  to  stay,  at  least 
to  go  to  see  her  father  and  afterward 
return  to  Canada.  But  she  continued 
silent    until    the    very    last,    when,     in 


T 


48 


An  Unredeemed 


response  to  a  tinal  appeal,  she  said  in  a 
low  voice,  "  Zaghte  oghte,"  which  in 
Pinglish  means,  "It  may  not  be."  Those 
words  were  the  only  ones  she  would 
vouchsafe  in  all  the  two  hours  Schuyler 
spent  with  her.  Schuyler  was  much 
"Hoved,  now  compassionate,  now  indig- 
nant, and  he  said  to  her  as  he  left,  "  Had 
I  made  such  proposals  and  prayings  to 
the  worst  of  Indians,  I  do  not  doubt  but 
1  would  have  had  a  reasonable  answer 
and  consent  to  what  I  said." 

At  this  Eunice's  husband  touched 
Schuyler  on  the  arm  and  said  in  broken 
English,  "  She  no  go.  Her  father 
marry  twice  times.  He  no  have  marry, 
she  go." 

Schuyler  said  no  more.  He  caught 
Eunice's  limp,  unresisting  hand  within 
his  two  strong  brown  ones  and  held  it  a 
moment,  then  turned  on  his  heel  and 
hurried  away. 


matiam 


Captive 


49 


I 


1 


Chapter  \'I 

Of  the  Return  of  Peace  -The  Troubles  of  the 
Commission  to  Secure  the  Release  of  the 
Captives  Held  in  Canada  —  Eunice  Refuses 
to  Return — Visits  of  Kunicc  and  her  l)e- 
scendants  to  Their  Old  Home 

'X'HE  same  year  Schuyler  made  liis 
^  Canadian  journey  peace  was  estab- 
lished between  P>ance  and  England,  and 
in  the  autumn  orders  were  received  in 
America  for  the  release  of  captives.  A 
commission  was  at  once  appointed  by 
Governor  Dudley  of  ^Massachusetts  to 
go  to  Canada  to  hunt  up  and  bring  home 
the  New  England  people  held  there. 
This  commission  left  Northampton  for 
Albany  on  the  9th  of  November,  and 
one  of  the  party  was  Pastor  Williams  of 
Deerfield. 

The  horseback  journey  to  Alban)'  oc- 
cupied four  days.  Here  winter  came, 
with  uncertain  weeks  of  cold  and  thaws 
which  kept  them  from  proceeding  north- 


50 


An  Unredeemed 


warci  til!  late  in  December.  Then  they 
went  on  by  way  of  Saratoga  and  Crown 
Point,  sometimes  on  snow-shoes,  some- 
times in  canoes.  Thus  they  reached 
Chambl)\  whence  th(^\  jjroceeded  to 
Quebec    in    sleiL'hs. 

Governor  De  \'auilrueil  ^'a\e  them 
his  word  of  lionor  that  all  prisoners 
shoukl  have  full  liberty  to  return,  and 
told  his  visitors  to  go  freely  among 
them  aiid  send  for  them  to  come  to  their 
lodgings.  The  commission  were  much 
pleas(>d  with  their  recej)tion,  but  soon 
after  we  find  them  comj)laining  to  the 
go\ernor  that  the  priests  are  exerting 
themselves  to  (prevent  the  prisoners 
going.  His  Excellericy  replied  that  he 
could  "as  easily  alter  the  course  of  the 
waters  as  prevent  the  priests'  endeavorr," 

Mr.  Williams  was  no  less  ardent  than 
the  priests,  and  it  was  presently  forbid- 
den that  he  should  have  any  religious 
talk  with  the  captives.  He  was  accused 
of  being  abroad  after  eight  o'clock  in 
the  evening  to  discourse  on  religion 
with  some  of  the   I'^nglish,  and  he  was 


II    I 


i 


^(!^;t!5B'!^:^ 


Captive 


51 


told  that  if  he  repeated  the  offense  he 
would  be  confined  a  })risoner  in  his 
lodgings.  The  priests  affirmed  that  he 
undid  in  a  moment  all  they  had  done  in 
seven  years  to  establish  their  religion. 

Early  in  this  Canadian  trip  Mr.  Will- 
iams had  an  interview  with  his  daugh- 
ter, but  she  would  not  leave  the  Indians; 
and  though  he  pleaded  with  them,  and 
with  the  priests  and  authorities,  some- 
times so  much  moved  that  the  tears 
streamed  down  his  face,  they  simj)ly  said 
that  the  girl  could  go  or  stay  as  she 
chose,  and  she  chose  to  stav. 

After  nine  months'  absence  the  com- 
mission returned,  their  efforts  largely 
baltled,  and  with  buttwenty-si.x  prisoners. 
No  furth(jr  attempt  was  mad(;  officially 
for  the  red(;mption  of  Kunice  Will- 
iams, but  in  1740  an(nher  inter- 
view was  liad  with  her,  which  led  to 
her  thricti  revisiting  the  placid  of  her 
nativity.  Slie  came  wiih  her  husband 
and  others  of  the  tribe,  all  in  Indian 
costume,  and  so  entirely  had  she  lost 
her  English  that  it  was  only  by  m(;ans 


•  >"^**"--"-f^^r^ 


An  Unredeemed 


of  an  interpreter  that  it  was  possible  to 
carry    on     the     simplest     conversation 
with   her.      It  is  said,  too,  that  civih'zed 
life  was  so  repugnant  to  her   that   she 
refused  to  sleep  in  her  relatives'  houses. 
The  legend   is   that    while    visiting    her 
brother,   the  minister   of  Longmeadow, 
she   persisted    in    staying   with    the    In- 
dians   who    pitched    their    camp    in  the 
woods     east    of    the     parsonage.     She 
was     kindly     received    by    her    friends, 
but    all    induccmients    held    out    to    get 
her  to  sta\'   in  lier  old  home  were  una- 
vailing.    The    (ien(;ral     Court    offered 
a   grant  of  land    on    condition   that  she 
and    her    husband    and    children    would 
remain    in    New    bjigland.     She  refused 
on   the  ground    that  it   woultl  endanger 
her  soul. 

Th'j  die  was  cast,  she  had  adopted 
the  lif(;  ai\  '.  religion  of  the  North,  and 
thus  she  lived  a  true  savage  all  her 
ninety  years,  if  there  was  an  undue 
forc(!  used  earlier,  later  it  was  ihv.  ties 
of  family  and  habit  that  boimd  her.  It 
is  understootl  that  hv.v  husband  adopted 


^ 


j2     >:ii**"---»;.i^r-5 


[ 


I 


Captive 


C  ^ 

:)j) 


his  wife's  name  and  became  a  Williams, 
and  that  their  Indian  descendants  are 
still  a  part  of  the  tribe,  members  in  good 
and  regular  standing  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  they  keep  the  Puritan  name. 

A  company  of  these  Williams  Indians 
visited   Ueerfield    as    re-cently   as    1837. 
There  were  several  families,  amounlino- 
in    al!    to    twenty-three    persons.       The 
eldest,  a  woman  of  eighty  years,  affirmed 
that  Eunice  was  her  grandmother.     Dur- 
ing their  stay  of  a  little  more  than  a  week 
they  encamjjed   on   the  village  outskirts, 
and  employed  their  spare  time  in  mak- 
ing baskets.     They  visited  the  graves  of 
their  ancestors,  Rev.  John  Williams  and 
wife,  and  attended  service  on  Sunda)-  in 
an  orderly  and  reverent  manner.    They 
refused  to  receive  company  on  the  Sab- 
bath, and  at  all  times  and  in  all  respects 
seemed  disposed  to  conduct  themselves 
decently  and  inoffensively.      Their    en- 
campment   was    fre(|uent<Hl     by    great 
numbers    of    persons,    almost    denj-ing 
them  time  to  eat  their  meals,  but  aflortl- 
ing  them  a  ready  sale  for  their  baskets. 


S7r^~  ■*}",'"■ -^f' 


54 


An  Unredeemed  Captive 


The  descendants  of  Kunice  Williams 
are  Indians  still,  and  still  have  their 
home  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 
and  they  continue  to  make  the  baskets 
and  other  simple  Indian  wares  of  com- 
merce. It  is  a  strange  story,  and,  as  I 
have  said  before,  the  mystery  still  re- 
mains as  to  whether  their  white  ances- 
tress was  a  savage  from  choice  or  lived 
her  long  life  in  repression  and  iinhappi- 
ness. 


-iSI^ 


ifjfflfwgjga 


